


Rear Suspension

by winsister91



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Car Sex, Drinking, F/M, Mild Angst, Mild Fluff, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-03-06 01:37:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18840982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winsister91/pseuds/winsister91
Summary: You’re waiting for some back up on a super personal hunt that’s getting you down. You decide to have a drink when back-up arrives in the form of Dean Winchester.





	Rear Suspension

“Another!” You yell at the bartender, who raises an eyebrow at you before sliding another green shot concoction your way. You have no idea what’s in it, hell you can’t even remember what it’s called, but it's sugary sweet, cheap and getting you drunk. Perfection.

You smile at the little glass of glimmering green alcohol, toast to no one and knock it back. You think the mix was slightly out of balance this time, causing more burn than sweetness. You cough and splutter out of surprise, then groan as your head feels suddenly cloudy and heavy. You want drunk, but not painful unpleasant drunk, so you conclude there’s only one answer.

“Another!” you cry out again, this time some strain in your voice.

“You realize that’s your seventh now?” the bartender questions, concern in his eyes.

“I lost count,” you respond bluntly.

“On top of the half bottle of bourbon you’ve sunk down your neck too? Don’t you think that’s enough?”

“Only half? Gimme another one of those too.”

You dig into your pocket, bringing out a twenty and slamming it onto the bar.

The bartender sighs, taking the money and fixing the drinks. You sigh and slump your head into your folded arms. It had been a rough day, many would take this opportunity to follow the cliché, dump all your troubles on the poor bartender stunt, but you can’t. Not unless you wanted the men in white coats carting you off in an inconspicuous white van.

So here you are, slumped in some dive bar in the back end of nowhere, drinking cheap green sick inducers and feeling like trash. You look up and catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror behind the bar. What a mess. Hair all over the place, eyeliner smudged, and eyes so bloodshot its appears you haven’t slept in weeks. In fact… had you? You can't quite remember.

You’d been stalking this damn vampire for near on a month. Every time you get a lead, its a step behind and the bastard has moved on again. Taking more victims in its wake. Never had a hunt so simple got you riled up so much. The thing was clever, knew where you’d look, knew how to avoid you but piss you off at the same time. It  _was_ your sister once after all.

It was the first time in years you’d resorted to asking for back up. You had a reputation to uphold as being a freaking badass and you didn’t like it tarnished. So this was adding to the sting of the whole situation. You were waiting in this hole of a town for said backup to arrive. It was actually the first time you’d stopped, and unfortunately, when you stop, things in your head start processing. How you’re a failure. How you couldn’t protect your own family from your god damn job. How you can’t even take down one measly vamp because you’re so fucked up at the minute. Thinking sucks. Drinking’s good.

You look up again and are greeted by the sight of your two new beverages, you grab the green thing and throw it down your throat, this one was so sickly sweet you can feel your teeth hurt from the amount of sugar. You reach for the second only for a hand to appear out of nowhere and swipe it out of your way first.

“So here you are,” came that familiar deep voice, you look up and see those green eyes glistening down at you.

“Ah!” You cheer sarcastically and slurring, “The cavalry arrives! Dean fricking Winchester!”

He raises his brow and chuckles, “ _Someone_ ’senjoying the old alcohol tonight then?”

You sneer and grab the shot of bourbon from his hand and down it. You’ve become so used to the sickliness of the green things, the burn and smokiness of this took you by surprise. You gag and make a clumsy beeline for the bathroom.

* * *

 

You aren’t sure how much time has passed when you re-emerge into the bar, but know that the experience you just went through in those toilets was sobering.

Dean is waiting for you, sat at the same place at the bar you were earlier. He looks no different from the last time you saw him a few years ago, still wearing that tatty leather jacket with the collar turned up, big hulking boots and a permanent cocky smirk across his face. He has a beer in hand and a glass of clear liquid sits in front of the chair next to him. You pass by a mirror on your way over and well, if you’d have known Dean was the cavalry you would have probably made more of an effort than a baggy black tee, ripped jeans and converse. The last time you encountered the Winchesters was pure chance, bailing their asses out from a particularly frisky Chupacabra you’d both happened to be working on. You admired them both, Sam was all smarts and damn fine to look at, but Dean was the charmer and almost as badass as yourself, not that you’d ever tell him that. He’d spent near enough the entire time those few years ago making every move on you, and even though you didn’t bite, he made you blush and feel pretty damn good about yourself, a feat not many guys had achieved.

You climb onto the barstool next to him and he immediately laughs.

“Wow you had a rough time in there didn’t you?” he nudges you with an elbow and passes you the glass of clear liquid, “See this here? It’s water, it’ll help stop things like that happening.”

“Shut up,” you groan, taking the glass and swigging near enough half of it down, “I just… needed to try and shut my brain off, ya know?”

Dean’s face turned somber and sympathetic, “Bobby told me what happened with Katie, that’s…rough.”

“Yeah you’re telling me,” you sigh, just hearing your sister’s name brings a twinge of heartache.

“Sam couldn’t make it, but soon as I heard it was you calling out, I knew I had to help to you out.”

“Thanks,” you give a brief smile.

“Well done son!” the bartender cheered at the two of you, “That’s the first smile she’s cracked all night!”

“I’ll endeavor that it isn’t the last!” Dean announced.

You can't help but smirk slightly before finishing your water.

“Bartender my good man!” Dean chants, “Another water for the lady!”

“Nah, make that a beer please,” you interject.

“I thought you’d be done with the drink now?” Dean questions.

“Not just yet,” you shrug, “I wish I hadn’t gone all out so early though. If I  _recaaall_ , we said we were gonna have a drinking competition one day?”

“Ooh, when you said you were going ‘get me so drunk I’d forget what sober was’?” Dean laughed, “Seriously?”

“Like I said,” you shrug, “I wanna shut my brain off.”

“Fair enough,” he also shrugs and downs the rest of his beer.

“But you got some catching up to do! Hey barkeep! Make that two beers and seven of those icky green things!” you laugh, “I’ll spare you the bourbon seeing as I chucked up.”

“Gee thanks,” Dean groans as the drinks pile up in front of you both.

* * *

 

You and Dean spend hours in that dive bar. As the drinks flow you loosen up a little, even have a few laughs and jokes. The two of you begin reminiscing that damn Chupacabra fight. How the disgusting thing had managed to take a chunk out of Sam’s leg and you both had to try and carry the huge lug of a man back to the impala afterward. How it was only at that point you both realized the thing still wasn’t fricking dead as it lunged for the car after you all got in it and did a number on the paintwork and tires. How Dean cursed and swore, kicking the thing’s head around like a football after you’d finally decapitated it.

“God you were so pissed!” you giggle, now drinking some purple cocktail thing in a Martini glass with an umbrella and the works.

“Hey!” Dean yelled, “Nobody hurts baby! God damn son of a bitch, took me ages to fix that mess…”

“You fixed it yourself?” you ask, fiddling with your drink and slotting the little umbrella behind your ear.

“Hell yeah, consider myself quite the master mechanic myself, built that girl back up from scratch practically once.”

You nod in admiration, “Nice. Might con you into sorting my car out.”

“Car? Thought you had that sweet ass bike?”

“Yeah, that got completely totaled a year or so back. Got some cheap crappy rent-a-car thing now that I never took back.”

Dean laughs, “What’s wrong with it?”

“Ugh, its practically a lottery as to whether it’ll even start up these days, and the rear suspension is near on non-existent.”

“Rear suspension huh? What you been up to on those back seats eh?”

Dean winks and you feel your cheeks go tingly as you blush.

“Please. Like I got time for things like that,” you sulk.

That’s it, you think, you’ve set him off now. You notice a change in those gorgeous eyes of his, and you spot him give a subtle bite to his bottom lip.

“Hey,” you quickly try to change the subject, “The pool table is free. Up for a game?”

“Sure, but prepare to lose,” he jeers.

* * *

 

 

 ****Dean is the one who should have prepared. You don’t know what it is with pool, you completely suck at it when sober, yet with a few drinks in your gut, you can pull off some amazing shots. Must be the lack of doubt that usually holds you back from taking such shots.

You give the Winchester a wink as you sink the black at the end of your third game.

“Oh come on!” he protests, “Best of five then?”

“You had your chance!” You shrug with a laugh, setting the cue aside. You pick up your empty glass and look at it in mourning, “So I believe it’s  _you_ buying the drinks all night now yes?”

“Fine, but I’m picking drinks. No more of those damn girly cocktails,” he grunts.

You raise your hands and concede, and watch him walk back to the bar. You take a moment to enjoy the rear view and find yourself picturing what’s underneath those thick jeans. You tell yourself it's the alcohol making you think like this, when in actuality, you did the exact same those few years back and you were definitely stone cold sober then.

He returns with a large bottle and two small glasses, your heart sinks slightly when you realize he just bought an entire bottle of whiskey.

“Seriously!?” you protest.

“Drink of the gods!” He laughs, pouring into the two glasses and handing you one, “Also, turns out they’re shutting here in about half an hour, so I thought I’d get the bottle so we have some for the road.”

“Wonderful,” you state with a twinge of sarcasm, smelling the glass and grimacing.

“One more game,” Dean picks up a pool queue and points it at you, “But let’s make it interesting.”

“Go on,” you play along, intrigued, but narrowing your eyes suspiciously.

“If I win, I’ll show you the Impala’s  _rear suspension_ ,” he laughs with a wink.

You instantly blush and feel momentarily stunned. Is he serious? Is this happening or just some drunken hallucination? A million questions like this blow your mind and you trip and stutter on your words.

“U-uh I, well…um,” you scratch your head and buy yourself some time by grabbing your drink and downing it. The whiskey burns harshly on your throat and you cough and splutter… again.

Dean rushes over, the cocky smirk now changed to concern, “Sorry, sorry,” he pats your back, “Too far?”

“No!” You answer too quickly, “You j-just shocked me that’s all. So what if I win?”

“Name your wager,” he chuckles and the smirk returns.

“Huh,” you place a hand on your cheek trying to hide that your face is still burning hot and red from blushing, “I’m sure I’ll think of something.”

* * *

 

The game is intense for numerous reasons. First, your mind is still reeling. Second, Dean is pulling out all the stops to put you off your game. Each time you lean forward to take your shot he’s there behind you, perching himself perfectly so you feel that bulge in his pants brush your rear. You’re unsure if you’ve stopped blushing at all throughout this game. Third, you honestly can't think of a counter-wager.

Your drunken pro skills are still on your side, despite the addition of whiskey into the mix, but Dean has upped his game too and you’re both trying to pot the black. Dean misses. Your turn. The shot is lined up perfectly and you know it's an easy shot, but you find yourself hesitating. To pot or not?

Dean is behind you again as you’re hunched over trying to decide. He leans right over so your faces are next to each other and he whispers into your ear, “You know you want to miss it.”

Butterflies attack your gut and you grin as your decision is made. You shoot with force, the click of the balls hitting each other echo through the near on empty bar. The sound of the black crashing into the pocket follows. You stand and grin triumphantly at the deflated Winchester.

“Impala,” you wink as you throw the cue down, “Now.”

Dean’s eyes widen, “Really?”

“I said now didn’t I?” you put on your own cocky smirk now, “I just wasn’t having you winning.”

He didn’t need telling again. Grabbing the whiskey bottle, he takes your arm and you both rush out of the bar.

* * *

 

Before you know it you both reach to gorgeous Impala, Dean spins you around and forces you up against one of the doors. Your heart is racing, your head is light. It's not like you to do something like this, but alcohol can make people do funny things.

Dean leans in and his lips are a mere inch away from your own, and those butterflies go wild in your belly again.

“You sure Y/N?” he whispers for confirmation.

You decide to let actions answer this one and you press your lips on his softly. It's only a small peck, and afterwards, you look each other in the eyes for a moment. You smile, and Dean’s eyes turn hungry. He leans in again, this time the kiss is more forceful and passionate. You taste his whiskey tainted tongue playing with your lips, so you open them and accept it. You arms wrap around his neck, and his come around your waist. All perception of time becomes lost on you, and God only knows how long you stood there making out, but it was blissful. His hands now reach down and grab your ass, one of yours comes down and cups that bulge he spent so long teasing you with.

The lights outside the bar go dark, and the parking lot is plunged into darkness. Dean releases his mouth from yours and quickly looks around scanning the area, the road is quiet and the lot is near on empty.

He opens one of the rear doors of the Chevy and bundles you inside, laying you across the back seat. He follows, closing the door behind him and this is when you realize, Dean Winchester is making out with you, on the back seat of his legendary car, and he’s now reaching up to your shirt. Lips still locked, he forces his hand under your bra and plays with you’re already hard nipple. A small gasp escapes from you, as this sends a mild tingle straight down to your core, and you feel down there start to heat up as it slowly becomes wet for him. He moves from your mouth and now locks onto your neck, sending another strong buzz down your body. You move one of your hands down to his groin, and stroke over his jeans. You feel that bulge growing in size and Dean exhales deeply. He pulls at the bottom of your shirt, tugging it up and over your head, then grabs one of the cups on your bra and gently lowers it, revealing your breast. You gasp further as his lips now move to that. First he kisses gently, then he swirls his tongue around your bud, occasionally flicking it over, giving you a small buzz. He unbuttons your jeans and reaches down to your pussy, lightly rubbing two fingers up and down your entrance.

“You’re so wet,” he hushes into your ear.

Your back arches just at the sound of his hungry voice, and he chooses this moment to dip past your folds. He starts moving them in and out, shallow and brushing against your walls. Once they’re wet enough, he brings them back out and circles your clit.

“Dean,” you involuntarily sigh, closing your eyes to heighten the sensation of his touch.

You now unbutton his jeans, and feel under his boxers, finding his tip and circling around it lightly, releasing a grunt from him that’s so primal it’d drive any woman wild.

He releases you for a moment so he can pull his jeans and boxers down properly, and you see his hard cock spring free. Instinctively your hand brushes all the way up it, feeling his girth, and you feel your pussy almost quiver in want. You start to pump him, and pulls your pants down and thrusts his fingers into you deeper in response, curling them and brushing your g-spot. Both of your movements grow stronger, and your breathing becomes deeper and more erratic causing the Impala windows to start steaming up.

You feel your lower half start to become alive with electricity and you start grinding against his hand, all you want is him inside you.

“Dean please,” you plead amid your gasps.

He inserts a third finger and you moan loudly as he thrusts harder. You can feel the pressure starting to build and you start to fear you’re going to cum before he even gets inside.

“D-Dean, I’m gonna-” before you can finish, he pulls his fingers out and replaces them with what you want.

The noises that erupt from you are completely uncontrollable. You can feel him stretching you and reaching deeper than anyone ever had before.

His thrusts start slow and deep, stroking your g-spot intensely. One hand of yours is digging into the Impala’s leather seats, the other is wrapped within Dean’s hair.

His rhythm becomes faster, animalistic groans now escaping from him. You feel your pussy tighten around him and the pressure builds even further.

“Cum for me Y/N,” he orders.

Your body obliges, your vision goes black, you feel your legs shake of their own free will and you cry out uncontrollably as the pressure releases, sending an outpour of electricity all over your body.

This pushes Dean over the edge, causing him to grunt loudly and you feel his cock release inside of you, coating you all inside with warmth.

You’re both gasping when he eventually pulls out slowly, causing a slight whimper to escape from you just from the small stimulation of that action alone. He lays alongside you, wrapping an arm around and pulling you close while you both recover. A small indefinable amount of time passes before Dean suddenly jolts.

“Oh crap we didn’t use a-” he starts panicked.

“Relax doofus I’m on the pill,” you interrupt chuckling.

He sighs with relief and you feel his arms relax back around you. Your eyes start to feel heavy and you decide to just let them fall closed.

“Yeah,” you sigh groggily before sleep finds you, “That’s some fine rear suspension you got there…”

**Author's Note:**

> This was the first fic I ever posted to Tumblr *hard blush*  
> Be gentle with it, I wouldn't go as far to say I'm pro or anything now, but back then I was most definitely a noob to fanfic.  
> I have to include it though, it was the fic that started it all <3


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